


Mistaken Identity

by Shivver



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-14 23:33:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 19,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1282765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shivver/pseuds/Shivver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doctor Who/Harry Potter crossover: The Doctor and Donna fly through a crack in the walls of the universe and land in a world where humans can perform magic. Getting mixed up in the cold war between the Death Eaters, the Ministry of Magic, and the Order of the Phoenix, all sides want the Doctor dead!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a crossover between _Doctor Who_ and the Harry Potter universe.
> 
>  **Harry Potter** : This happens during the summer after the events of _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_. Plot/events and character personalities are from the novel and _not_ the movie, though character physical descriptions are more or less from the movie and not the novel.
> 
>  ** _Doctor Who_** : This is sometime in series 4, after Donna has had a few adventures with the Doctor, but before "Midnight" and "Turn Left."
> 
> Slightly non-canonical, because this story assumes that the Harry Potter books do not exist in the _Doctor Who_ universe, which explicitly goes against the episode "The Shakespeare Code."

Donna picked herself up off the grating that served as the floor of the console room as the time rotor ground to a halt. “Blimey, that was rough! You’re getting worse at piloting this thing!” As she swept her red hair out of her face, the Doctor’s concerned look stopped her whinging tirade cold.

The Doctor was hopping around the console, twisting dials and flipping switches. “‘Sall right. Calm down there!” he soothed the TARDIS, patting the metal struts tenderly. He stopped at the monitor and peered at it, his forehead crinkled in concentration, one eyebrow arched.

Donna dusted off her maroon pantsuit as she watched the Doctor with unease. “What? What happened?”

Still staring at screen, the Doctor straightened up and ran both hands through his hair, stopping with his elbows framing his head like antlers. “Can’t be. But I can see it, too.” He was obviously still talking to the TARDIS. He backed away from the console, his mind racing, elbows still up in the air. 

“Doctor? DOCTOR!”

Donna’s yell could bring a dead elephant back to life, and it snapped the Doctor out of his train of thought. “Blimey! I never get used to that.” He smiled sunnily at her and turned back to the console.

“What’s wrong? Where are we?” She rounded the console to have a look at the screen. While she only had a basic understanding of how the screen worked, as a lot of the readout was in untranslated Gallifreyan, this time it was completely incomprehensible. She’d never seen the display in that layout, and none of it was in English.

The Doctor was again concentrating, but this time on manipulating the console readout. He typed, slowly turned some knobs, and flipped some switches while staring fixedly at the screen. Symbols flashed and mutated. “I… don’t know… We’ve left… the universe…”

“Left the what?”

“The universe, Donna. We’re somewhere else.” He fiddled with a few more controls before stepping back. “Yup. The TARDIS confirms it.” He turned to face her, an excited grin stretching from ear to ear. “You’re in a whole new universe, Donna Noble!”

“What? How?”

“A crack in the walls of the dimension, probably. TARDIS flew right through it. As soon as we landed here, I could see it. The timestream is completely different. Disorientating, it is, having a new timestream running through your head. Like putting on specs with the wrong prescription.”

“But we can go back, right, Doctor?”

“Of course! Well, most likely. Well, when the TARDIS finds the crack again. She’ll take us right home.” Donna looked dubious. “But come on! A new universe! Don’t you want to see what’s outside that door?”

Donna looked at the wooden doors that led out. “You’ve never been here before? Could be dangerous.”

“Could be wonderful! And you’d be the first human to ever see it!” His enthusiasm was infectious, and Donna began to walk towards the door, curious but guarded, the Doctor behind her. “A realm where the sky is purple and filled with moons. A planet of sentient hatbands. A universe of tiny blue one-eyed creatures with wings.” Donna grasped door handle and pulled. “A world like you’ve never imagined before.”

“Otherwise known as London.” She stepped outside onto cool pavement and stood with her hands on her hips.

“Again?” The Doctor stuck his head out of the door and looked around, then up at the sky, the tip of his tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth. “No zeppelins this time.”

Donna turned to look at him. “You been here before?” 

“Nope. Not this not-London.” She detected a hint of disappointment in his voice. “Why is it always London?” He retreated back into the police box.

Donna paused to take a look at the city again. She wasn’t familiar with the neighborhood they landed in, but she could see enough landmarks over the rooftops to recognize the city. No purple skies or flying blue critters. Just London. Stepping back into the TARDIS, she latched the door and leaned against it.

“Same old town. Sorry to disappoint. What are we doing, then?”

The Doctor was busy at the console screen once again. “Well, the TARDIS is going to take some time finding the crack. Been through it, so she can trace back, but it’ll take some time to calculate the coordinates and trajectory.” He looked up at Donna. “A couple of days, maybe more. But we’ll get back home.” He smiled reassuringly.

“And in the meantime?”

“Tourists! See the sights! It’s never the ‘same old town’ in a new universe! Oh, and shopping!” Grinning impishly, he punched one last button on the console, then strode for the door, snatching his overcoat from the support strut and slipping into it.

“Shopping!” repeated Donna, grinning. “Now that’s more like it!” She hooked her arm on his elbow, and they strode out of the blue doors together.

Donna never did get to spend much time just enjoying the places she visited with the Doctor. More often than not, they got embroiled in some life-or-death situation, then jumped back into the TARDIS in search of the next disaster. She was happy to have a nice day exploring this alternate London - and she wasn’t convinced this wasn’t her own London, as she certainly didn’t see a single difference - and the Doctor was a fine companion. She had never seen him smile so much. Taking in the sights, hitting the stores, dinner in a lively pub, and even a show. That was her definition of a fine day.

For his own part, the Doctor had a splendid day as well. Donna was his best mate, and they were wandering, without a care in the world - literally. Meeting new people, watching them as they went about their lives, marveling at the wonders that were human beings: it always exhilarated him. The unfamiliar timestream nagged at the back of his mind, but every universe flowed in its own unique way and as he got used to it, it felt less and less uncomfortable. As they wandered, he kept an eye out for differences between his home universe and this one, and there were a few. First, a newspaper established that the date was August in 1996, though culture - music, fashions, popular technology, etc. - were more in line with mid-2000s. He spotted some small differences in the buildings and streets of this London. The prime minister was a different person, neither Harriet Jones nor, thankfully, Harold Saxon, but someone he’d never heard of. Small differences, nothing that made him uneasy, and he threw himself into the task of enjoying the relaxation.

He did notice that not once did Donna even think about searching for her family and friends - or herself - in this universe. She was grounded, pragmatic, and above all, brilliant. He couldn’t help but grin with pride at the thought.

As Donna and the Doctor left the pub and headed for the show, a small, round-faced man, in a ratty, stained coat, watched them with beady eyes. Muttering to himself, he pulled a stick of wood out of his pocket and, holding it tightly in his gloved hand, turned on his heel and vanished.


	2. Chapter 2

Where there had been nothing a moment before, a man appeared on the path leading up to a ramshackle cabin tucked into a copse of dark trees. It could no longer be called a road, as weeds and grass had long broken the paving into gravel. Not far from the modern world of housing tracts and shopping malls, the small parcel of land had been somehow forgotten, passersby barely sparing it a look. The pale man with flaxen hair, dressed in luxurious black robes and carrying a polished walking stick with a gilt head, glanced around once, then approached the cabin door. Pulling his wand from its scabbard in the walking stick, he scratched the tip across the paneling, then knocked once with the butt end. The door immediately opened.

“Come in, come in,” wheezed the nervous, round face that appeared.

“Wormtail, is that Lucius?” a commanding voice issued from inside the cabin. 

“It is, my lord,” Malfoy answered. He pushed the door open, knocking Wormtail backwards, and swept into the cabin. Approaching the man seated in the throne-like chair facing the fireplace, he knelt and bowed his head, then stood up and strode to the rough stone mantle, leaning against it.

Only a small select group of wizards had been summoned by Voldemort, the man lounging on the throne. Preferring to keep his servants on edge, he waited, silent and impassive, his red eyes flicking to each of them in turn until they started to fidget. An extremely large snake was coiled to his left, its head resting on the Dark Lord’s armrest. To Malfoy’s left, Nott, an older wizard, sat back in his chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. Severus Snape, the Potions master at Hogwarts, sat in his customary seat at the Dark Lord’s right hand, his attitude imposing, his lips pursed in perpetual distaste. Wormtail scampered across the room and squatted in front of the Dark Lord, cowering.

Presently, the Dark Lord nodded. “Everyone is here. Wormtail, why don’t you tell our friends what you happened to see today, in London?”

Wormtail flinched at the sound of his own name. His voice raspy, he barely whispered, “Barty Crouch.”

Voldemort’s voice cut across him. “Speak up!” 

“Barty Crouch! I saw Barty Crouch!” he yelped as if he had been slapped. Snape raised an eyebrow but said nothing. 

Nott leaned forward in his chair. “That old Ministry man? Thought he was dead. Need us to make him so?” His eyes gleamed with the thought of mayhem.

Voldemort dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. “If it was so easy, I wouldn’t need you. Even Wormtail could handle such a simple task. No.” He kicked Wormtail, who cringed. “Again, Wormtail. Tell them exactly who you saw. Clearly, so everyone can hear.”

Wormtail cleared his throat and spoke as loud as he dared, which wasn’t very loud at all. “It was his son! Barty Crouch, Jr.”

Snape frowned. Malfoy opened his mouth to speak, but Voldemort cut him off. “He’s not finished. Tell them everything, Wormtail.” His tone was that of someone speaking to a stupid child.

“Yes, my lord,” Wormtail simpered. “He was in London. Dressed in Muggle clothes, and with a woman. Red-haired. I saw them touring the city, and followed them to a pub. After they left, I hastened to tell my master.”

Snape slowly turned to face Voldemort. He spoke slowly and distinctly. “This cannot be true. I saw the dementor deliver the Kiss to him myself, and watched as his body was taken from Hogwarts.”

“And yet, I cannot doubt the testimony of our faithful servant, can I, Wormtail?.” Voldemort’s voice was oily. “He knows Crouch, when he helped me free him from his father’s control. And he would not dare lie to me.” He glanced lazily at Wormtail, who flinched.

“No, my lord! I do not lie. I saw him! I am sure of it!” Wormtail whined.

“Perhaps _you_ were the one who mistook what you saw, Severus.” Malfoy’s eyes gleamed with malice. 

Snape ignored Malfoy’s accusation, did not even deign to turn in his direction. “It smells of trickery to me, my lord, though I do not know whose. Dumbledore has no plans involving Crouch.”

“And Dumbledore tells _you_ everything.” Malfoy’s tone was scathing.

“Silence, Lucius.” The pale man half-stepped back at Voldemort’s command, but devious glee shone in his eyes. 

“It _is_ curious,” Voldemort continued. “Why would my most faithful servant not return to me? Why is he living as a Muggle?” He spat the last word out. “If it is not him, who is he? Who is behind it all? And what would be the point?”

“Imperiused. Or memory charmed,” Nott suggested.

“Still no point. _If_ he survived, the Ministry wouldn’t wipe his memory and force him to live as a Muggle. He’d be sent back to Azkaban. Fudge has no imagination.”

Wormtail whimpered. “He seemed happy.”

“And you’re not, Wormtail? Would you prefer I put you out of your misery?” The question came out as a low hiss.

“No, master! I am happy! I live to serve you!” Wormtail squatted in a ball, head between his knees, gloved hands covering the exposed back of the neck.

“I am glad to hear that.” Voldemort stroked the snake’s head. “This is what I need you to do. Lucius, Wormtail, bring Crouch to me. Kill him only as a last resort. But be wary: he is far more powerful than you, and very clever. Nott, find what you can about his woman. If she is a witch, then we will deal with her family. If she is a Muggle, then, do what you like.” Nott smiled in anticipation.

“And Severus. It is hard to keep anything secret from Dumbledore. He’ll hear about this soon enough. Keep me apprised of what he’s doing.” The Dark Lord paused, pensive, then nodded. “Now, go!”

Lucius scowled as Wormtail stood and moved to his side. He swept out of the cabin, not caring if the mousy man followed or not. Nott followed on their heels. Snape lingered a moment, then stood and, nodding graciously to the Dark Lord, he too exited. He and Nott both vanished a moment after he stepped out of the door, as did Lucius and Wormtail after a low but heated discussion.


	3. Chapter 3

As soon as the door opened, Nott pushed his way into the house, muscling the much shorter Avery out of the way. “Got a big problem.” He dropped into the nearest armchair and leaned his head on his fist.

Avery pointed out the still-open door. “Get out. Don’t bring your problems here.” 

“Shut it.”

Rolling his eyes, Avery slammed the door and strode to Nott, standing over him. “What now?”

“Crouch, Jr. is back. Seen in London. The Dark Lord is moving to get him back.”

“So?” 

“Another one!” Nott launched himself out of the chair and started pacing back and forth, his robes swishing around his heavy boots. The other man did not hesitate to plop down into the vacated seat. “First Snape, and now another ‘most faithful servant!’ Who _isn’t_ the Dark Lord’s ‘most faithful servant’ anymore?”

Crossing his arms, Avery rolled his eyes and bit his lip. He’d heard this rant before, too many times.

“And who gets ignored?” Nott continued. “Us. We do all the dirty work, and those bloody cowards get all the glory. I was one of the first, you know! Loyal to the end!”

Avery stared off into space, nodding reflexively at points all too often repeated to him.

“Well, this time, I’m going to do something about it.”

That was different. Avery ran his hand through his light brown hair and eyed the older man. “Do what?”

“Make sure that Crouch doesn’t return. One less servant to worry about. The Dark Lord wanted me to investigate his friend, some red-haired bird. We’ll just make sure that there’s nothing left of either to report back on.”

“We?”

“Of course, we. You want this as bad as I do.” Avery remained unconvinced. “Think. We bring them back here, two people to make _suffer_.”

Avery’s eyes gleamed. “Why didn’t you say so? Wait. Thought you said the Dark Lord was bringing him in. We won’t be able to get near.”

“Nah, he sent Malfoy and Wormtail. Those two are useless. I heard where Wormtail said he saw them. If we move fast, we can find them first.” He stepped to the chair and grabbed Avery by the arm. “Come on, let’s go.”

Jumping up, Avery wrenched his arm out of Nott’s grasp, then made a big show of cleaning off his blue sleeve where the man had touched him. 

Nott grunted, then mumbled the destination. Both men drew their wands out of their pockets and Disapparated.


	4. Chapter 4

Donna and the Doctor stepped out of the theater, arm-in-arm. While she was far more used to grabbing a film with her mates, the Doctor insisted on introducing her to some “culture” and they found a small theater group’s offering of _The Miracle Worker_. Though the some of the talent was a bit raw, the experience left her exhilarated, and the couple fairly skipped along as they enjoyed the warm August evening.

“See, Donna? Live performances are the best! Seeing the action right there, right in front of you. Better than the cinema any day!”

“That was wizard! I had no idea a live performance could be so stunning!”

“It’s better in a small theater, too. Very intimate. Though, I bet you’d love a grand old musical. We should look for a showing of _Les Miserables_.”

What he couldn’t show Donna directly, the Doctor loved telling her about, and as they turned onto a street lined with quiet, dark houses, he regaled her with the story of a performance of that play he had attended in 3154, by a Crespallion traveling troupe. He admitted it had been difficult to picture the bright blue aliens in revolutionary France.

“Though that wasn’t as nearly as hard to swallow as their singing! Crespallions all sing soprano, even the males. It was like high theater by dogs!” He cut his laugh off as two men jumped up from behind a wall, each leveling some type of weapon at them. He yelled “Donna!” as he pushed her sideways, knocking her off her feet.

“ _Stupefy!_ ” both men shouted, and red rays erupted from their weapons, one of which hit the Doctor in the shoulder. Dazed, he stumbled, then shook his head to clear it. Looking up, the two men had leapt the wall and were advancing, though they were clearly surprised that he was still moving.

“Crouch, give it up. You can’t fight both of us,” the older of the two men taunted. “ _Stupefy!_ ” The Doctor had anticipated another attack and dodged out of the way of another red jet. He couldn’t afford to get dazed again for even a second. 

“Donna, run!” He took off to his right, hoping that Donna would choose to go left across the street. The men were concentrating on him, so this would give her a chance to escape.

“That didn’t work before, Nott,” the younger man stated. ”Let’s try some pain.” His eyes lit up with cruelty. “ _Incendio!_ ” Flames burst from his weapon, and his target barely ducked in time, rolling behind a car.

The Doctor stuck his head up to get a handle on the situation. Donna had fled into the yard of one of the houses and was about to vault over a low wall into the next. The two men still stood together, next to a car across the narrow street, craning to see what effect the flame had had. He could see that the weapons they were carrying were simple wood sticks. _Wands? Spell words? Carrionites, maybe? Nah. Never seen a male Carrionite. Is this actual magic?_ He couldn’t be sure, but he wasn’t taking chances. Pulling out his sonic screwdriver, he aimed it at the car next to them and activated its horn. 

Both men jumped and rounded on the source of the sudden, blaring noise, screaming more unfamiliar words. The car exploded into flame, knocking the men back. The Doctor saw little of this, as he had taken the opportunity he had created to run.

“Come back here, Crouch, you coward,” yelled Nott as he and his companion jumped up. “ _Impedimenta!_ ” A green ray erupted from Nott’s wand, hitting the Doctor in the back. In mid-run, he froze and collapsed to the ground.

“Got him, Avery!” Nott pumped the air with his fist. “Come on!” 

“Oi! Wand boy!” A football sailed in and beaned Avery on the back of the head. They turned to see the red-haired woman sprinting away, across a yard.

“Forget her,” Nott growled. “It’s Crouch we want. We’ll come back for her later.”

“Oh, I will. I bet she screams real nice.” Avery tore his eyes from her.

The Doctor lay immobile on the sidewalk for a few seconds, but he could feel the paralysis ebbing. It was obviously a short-term effect, and he silently thanked Donna for the distraction. As soon as he had any control back in his arms and legs, he rolled to the side and scrambled to his feet, crouching behind a wall. Nott and Avery were running towards him, up the street. Donna, he hoped, was still running as far as she could to get away. 

Nott and Avery dodged in front of a parked car, and the Doctor took his shot with the screwdriver. Startled by the car’s horn again, the two men were also blinded by the headlights and could no longer see their quarry in the dark. Chased by frustrated yells, the Doctor sprinted up the street a ways and ducked between two houses, to be brought up short by the tall gate that prevented access to the home’s backyard. He pressed himself into a corner and tried to quiet his breathing.

“He can’t have gotten far.” The voice sounded like Avery’s, but another voice cut across his, proud and commanding.

“What are you two doing here? Begone before I tell the Dark Lord about your treachery!”

The Doctor peeked out of his hiding place. Nott and Avery were nowhere to be seen, but in their place, a man with long, pale hair, dressed in formal black robes and carrying himself with the condescending air of a prince was standing in the street. _This one would be quite at home in the High Council on Gallifrey. Just needs a funny hat_ , the Doctor thought. Next to him, a shorter man with the nervous tics of a rodent spun around in jerks, searching in all directions.

“He must still be near,” the smaller man whined in a nasal voice.

The pale man pulled a wand out of his walking stick and intoned, “ _Homenum revelio_.” He looked all around. “Ah, there, easy enough. Hiding there.” He pointed a couple of houses down to his left, behind a wall. “Go to it, Wormtail.”

Wormtail shuffled off, giggling, and, approaching the wall, reached behind it and pulled up Donna by her arm.

“Get your hands off me!” She slapped him with her other hand, but he held on and dragged her towards the other man.

“She’s not who we want, Malfoy.”

“She’s good enough. We can use her as bait. Or the Dark Lord will just dispose of her.”

“Let me go!” She kicked at Lucius.

“No, wait!” The Doctor emerged from the darkness. “It’s me you want. Let her go, and I’ll come with you. No tricks.”

“No, Doctor!” Donna started to protest, but he shot her a look and she immediately silenced.

“Finally, some sense.” Malfoy leveled his wand at the Doctor. “Let go of her, Wormtail.” 

As soon as Wormtail relaxed his hold, Donna drew back to hit him.

“Donna.” The Doctor’s voice halted her, and she stepped back and straightened her jacket, staring pointedly at the man called Wormtail. “Go back to the TARDIS. I’ll join you there.”

Wormtail snorted. “No, he won’t.”

Donna nodded. Malfoy stepped up to the Doctor and grabbed his arm roughly. He spun his body slightly, and the two vanished. 

“Doctor!” Donna screamed, fists clenched.

Wormtail laughed again, spun in a similar way, and vanished as well.

Donna glanced about wildly, searching for the Doctor, unable to believe that all these men disappeared right before her eyes, but there was nothing she could do. She took one, two steps in the direction of the TARDIS, then the overwhelming desire for safety forced her into a run. She wasn’t quite sure what had happened. _Men, wearing robes, or cloaks, or whatever they were, with magic wands and casting spells, and disappearing into thin air? Isn’t this London? There’s no such thing as magic._

Well, the Doctor always said that there are types of technology that look like magic. Does this London have that kind of odd technology? There was no evidence of it before. And what did they want with her and the Doctor? That Avery guy said he was coming back for her. She _had_ to get back to the TARDIS. Maybe there, she could figure out what to do.

Her thoughts were interrupted by two men who stepped out into the road in front of her, and she was brought up short. One was a tall but stocky man with short, gray hair, in what she assumed were practical robes. Despite looking formidable, he was unremarkable next to his companion, an older man with a heavily scarred face and a wooden leg. He was dressed like a old-time mercenary: long heavy leather coat, utilitarian clothes, heavy boots, and a bandolier over his chest. Even in the darkness, she could tell he had an artificial eye, and she could have sworn it was moving independently of the real eye. Both men held wands in their hands.

The stocky man stepped forward. “Come with us, miss. We’re to make sure you’re safe.” He beckoned her with a hand.

“You have got to be kidding me! Who’re you, then? Don’t look like police.” Stepping back, she kept her eyes on both of them as she tried to edge around a car. 

“Aurors, miss. That man you were with, he’s dangerous, a wanted criminal. We’ll make sure he doesn’t hurt you.” He started walking towards her, stuffing his wand in his pocket to show that he wasn’t threatening her.

“You’re barmy! I been with the Doctor for months and he wouldn’t hurt a fly. Get away from me!” The last part she yelled as the man neared her, and she took off.

The scarred man rolled his eyes. “ _Stupefy!_ ” A red jet erupted from his wand, and Donna crumpled to the ground.


	5. Chapter 5

The Doctor might have been able to twist away from Malfoy’s grasp if he hadn’t been disoriented by being engulfed in total darkness. Sudden intense pressure from all sides forced his limbs together and he couldn’t breathe, as if steel bands were tightening around his chest; his respiratory bypass reflexively kicked in. He clenched his jaw, as it felt like his skull was being crushed. Through it all, the grip of the stranger never wavered.

When the pressure released and he regained his eyesight and normal breathing, they were standing on the porch of a worn-down cabin. Wormtail appeared to his side a moment later and darted in front, scratching his wand on the door and rapping it sharply once. The door opened and he scurried inside.

“Enter.” WIth a noble air, the pale man let go of his arm and indicated with the hand that held the walking stick that the Doctor should precede him inside, while holding the smaller stick with the other hand. The Doctor knew that the answers must lie within, so he bowed in kind and stepped through the door. The man followed him in, closing the door behind him.

The small cabin was furnished with only a few old chairs, an old wood stove that looked unused, and a stone fireplace. A few odd devices sat on the mantle, emitting what was probably magical light. The door was the only entrance; no windows had been built into the structure. In nearly the center of the room was a high-backed armchair, upholstered with worn red velvet, and the man sitting in it was gazing at the Doctor with calm contempt. Hairless, his skin was sickly white over a skeletal body and a skull-like face with slits for nostrils and cat-like eyes that glowed scarlet. Long thin hands protruded from the sleeves of his dark, voluminous robes, a wooden stick lazily held in the right one. A huge snake lay coiled on the floor at his feet. Wormtail cowered to his right, hiding in the shadow of the chair.

Obviously intending to unnerve the Doctor, the skeletal man gazed at him for over a minute before speaking. “And so he returns.” His voice was high and cold, a hiss emphasizing the sibilant consonants. Without releasing the Doctor’s face from his stare, he gestured dismissively at the pale man. “I have no more need of you, Lucius. Begone.”

“By your leave, my lord. Wormtail can tell you later of Nott and Avery.” Bowing deep, Lucius opened the door with the knob and swept out, his cloak flapping behind him. Once the door was closed, the man in the throne-like chair spoke again.

“And what do you have to say for yourself, Barty? Have you abandoned your master? It’s been nearly three months and you have not returned to me. I had expected better from you.”

“Oh, well,” the Doctor drawled. “I’ve been out having fun. Seeing the sights. Avoiding dark run-down cabins in the woods.” He slipped into the seat directly facing the skeletal man and, relaxing back almost to the point of lying down in the chair, he crossed his ankles and laced his fingers together over his stomach. Engaging the man’s gaze directly, he sniffed once, briefly wrinkling his nose.

Wormtail whimpered at the Doctor’s temerity.

“Now that’s a shift in attitude. A servant who doesn’t simper or cower. Think it will make you stand out, that I’ll think you strong and reliable?” The man leaned forward. “Don’t get above yourself. What game are you playing here?”

“The real question is, what game are _you_ playing? Because you knew the moment I walked in here that I wasn’t this Barty person, but you’re still doing the insane evil overlord bit. Who are you? And what are you? A subspecies of humans that can perform magic?”

The red eyes widened in outrage. “‘Subspecies?’ A Muggle, are you? You _dare_ to categorize me with your filth?”

“Not _my_ filth, no. You’re not one of me.” The Doctor jumped up from his chair and paced back and forth, keeping his eye on the man on the throne. He kept his tone very lightly mocking. “But come on, who are you? You must have a name. ‘Master Dolgork the Twisted and Evil’ or something.” He overemphasized the final hard consonant on the made-up name. “Something too long for mere mortals to say.”

The man’s voice was low and threatening. “I am Lord Voldemort.”

“There we go!” The Doctor clasped his hands behind his back and bobbed a shallow bow. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Voldemort,” he greeted brightly.

“He is the Dark Lord!” Wormtail threw out from his shadow.

“The Dark Lord? Is that all? No, you need impressive! How about the Oncoming Storm? Or the Bringer of Darkness? Try those on for size.”

Wormtail sputtered with incredulity, but Voldemort shushed him. “Don’t rise to his bait, Wormtail. Let him have his fun. He only seeks to forestall the inevitable with his blathering. So, I have named myself. It is your turn. Who are you, Muggle?”

“I am the Doctor.”

“You tell me a sobriquet? Disappointing, but no matter. Tell me, Doctor, how do you come to have the face of a dead wizard?”

“Maybe the dead wizard came to have _my_ face. I started this life with this face.”

The snake stretched its head up onto the throne’s armrest, and Voldemort stroked it idly with his left hand. “Come now, Doctor. If you cooperate, I am more likely to allow you to live.”

“We both know that’s not true. You’ll kill me the moment you’re done with me.”

“Oh, you saw through my ingenious ploy.” Voldemort’s tone was smoothly sarcastic. “I can get what I want out of you in other ways. _Crucio_.” 

The spell word was uttered with no change in tone, and the only forewarning was the slight lift of the tip of Voldemort’s wand. Sudden excruciating pain, like a thousand scalding knives cutting over his entire body at once, forced the Doctor’s scream. He doubled over, then fell and curled into a ball. His eyes and head seared in agony.

Voldemort leaned back and relished the anguish of this odd Muggle. After about fifteen seconds, he ended the curse. The Doctor flopped, limp and panting, on the floor, before raising himself to his knees. 

The Dark Lord smirked. “Now you understand. You will tell me what I want to know. And if you don’t, well, I can do this all day. _Crucio_.”

Anticipating the spell, the Doctor steeled himself against the pain, but this time it wasn’t so bad, and it lessened as his resolve against it grew. Pretending to be in as much pain as before, he experimented with pushing the magical pain away. He realized that at least some of this magic could be repelled by force of will. It was not easy, but it was possible.

Again, the Dark Lord ended the spell. “So, tell me who you are, Doctor.” He intoned the name like an insult.

Coughing and faking a raspy, defeated, frightened voice, the Doctor wheezed, “Just who I seem to be. A Muggle with the dumb luck of looking like a wizard.” While he talked, he got to his feet, pretending to struggle and swaying a bit, grabbing the back of the chair he had been sitting in a few minutes ago to steady himself.

“A pity. You have such fire in your soul. You would have made a good Death Eater. Better than many, anyway.” He glanced at Wormtail. “But having you walking around will attract the attention of the Ministry of Magic, and we can’t have that. Farewell, Doctor. You made my day very amusing. Nagini, dinner.”

The Doctor was not going to be caught by surprise a second time. The moment Voldemort’s words were no longer conversational, he dove behind the chair and pulled out his sonic screwdriver. What he dodged wasn’t a spell, but a strike from the huge snake. “Sorry, must dash!” he breathed in a friendly tone. Lunging for the door, he pulled it open - he had seen earlier that while getting into the cabin required a wand, leaving required the doorknob - and, darting out, shut it and sonicked the metal lock. Switching the sonic’s setting, he applied it again, sealing the deadlock. As he launched himself off the porch, he heard Wormtail yell, “ _Alohomora!_ ” but nothing happened, as far as he could tell. He sprinted around the side of the cabin, disappearing behind the corner as Voldemort thundered, “Fool! _Reducto!_ ” and blasted the door into splinters.

_No footsteps. They must be trying to see where I’ve gone._

“Which way has he gone, master?” Taking advantage of Wormtail’s voice breaking the silence and the covering darkness, the Doctor pulled a cricket ball from his pocket and winged it among the trees in front of the house, where it hit the ground with a thump and the sound of crackling leaves.

“That way. Find him and kill him,” Voldemort commanded. 

The Doctor watched Wormtail’s dark form scurry off among the trees, and in a moment, after what sounded like some quiet spellcasting, the apparently newly-reformed cabin door slammed shut. Keeping still and silent, he listened; Voldemort was hissing softly, like a snake, but he was definitely inside the cabin. The Doctor crept away as noiselessly as he could. _Another evil overlord who sends his minions to do something he should take care of himself. Though, to be honest, he doesn’t want to be seen. Scare babies and all that._

The copse was not large. He stepped out of the trees onto the sidewalk and turning back, he found it difficult to look back towards the cabin. He knew it was there, yet felt that his eyes slipped past it. “Ah, nice perception filter.” He grinned, then set to the task of figuring out where he was and how he was going to get back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my notes, the name of this chapter is "The Dark Lord vs. the Dark Lord," since Dalek Caan referred to the Doctor with that title while talking to Davros. Unfortunately, I couldn't find any other use of this title, so the Doctor wouldn't know about it and I couldn't work it into the dialogue.


	6. Chapter 6

The great thing about candlelight is that it doesn't shock your eyeballs out of your head when you regain consciousness. Donna mused on this fact as she tried to clear the haziness from her vision and the cobwebs from her mind. She was lying on her back on… it felt like a sofa, not a bed. She shifted a bit and groaned softly as pinched the bridge of her nose.

A deep voice she didn't recognize murmured, "She's coming around." Another male voice grunted in response.

Alarmed by the thought of two unknown men, she pushed herself into a sitting position, then immediately slumped sideways against the back of the sofa. Peering out from under heavy eyelids, she saw the two men she had seen… when? Just after the Doctor disappeared.

Her eyes snapped open. "What's this place? Where's the Doctor? What have you done with him?" she demanded. Her voice dripped with anger and command but no fear, even though she still clung to sofa back for support.

The stocky man, the one who had spoken to her before, was lounging on a cushy chair, while the older grizzled man was sitting beyond him at a dining table. The former replied,"You're in a safe house. There's no danger here."

"There'll be danger all right, if you don't let me go!" She was regaining her strength. "What have you done with the Doctor?"

"Listen to me. I can assure you, you were in very grave danger, but you are safe now." Sitting up, he perched on the edge of his chair and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "The man you were with is a wanted criminal. There's a manhunt for him, and we've separated you from him only just in time."

"What? Look, dumbo, I'd know if the Doctor was a criminal, traveling with him all this time." She swung her legs off the couch and got to her feet, then swayed a bit. "You're nutters." Despite her slight dizziness, she strode to the nearest door. It didn't budge when she yanked on the knob.

"You can't get out."

The other man spoke up. "Memory charm. Or imperiused." His voice was gravelly. "Or just charmed. Crouch is both clever and charismatic. A Muggle would fall for his lies."

"Oi, what did you call me?" Stomping back into the center of the room, she rounded on the scarred man, though she drew back when she saw his artificial eye moving independently of his real one.

"Full of spirit, this one."

The younger man stood and, gently touching Donna's upper arm, motioned to the sofa. "Please, have a seat. You need to recover a bit more, and we will explain." She shot him an angry look, but sat down again. He sat down opposite her. "I'm Dawlish. He's Moody."

"That's right, he is." Dawlish smirked. Donna returned a little grin. "I'm Donna."

"So, you won't believe this, but we are wizards. We can use magic."

Donna rolled her eyes. "Tell me something I don't know."

Dawlish was taken aback. "You know about magic?"

"Of course, dumbo. You lot don't exactly keep it secret, waving your wands about and flinging fire everywhere. And anyway, I've seen weirder. Ever waved at fat?"

Dawlish bit his lip. "Then you know about your friend? That he's a wizard, and about his past."

"The Doctor isn't a wizard. He's a spaceman." She leaned back on the couch, crossing her arms.

"So, he's calling himself 'the Doctor.' Never given you his real name, then?"

"That _is_ his real name." It occurred to Donna that it probably wasn't his real name, but it didn't matter to her. The Doctor was her best mate, and if that's what he wanted to call himself, that was good enough for her. And she wasn't going to let these people think she doubted him at all.

"Odd name," growled Moody.

"Keep it to yourself, wand boy," Donna shot back.

Dawlish cleared his throat, possibly to mask a snort of laughter. "His name, his _real_ name, is Bartemius Crouch, Jr."

"Now, _that's_ an odd name."

"He is a powerful Dark Wizard, an evil, insane man, dangerous to wizards and Muggles alike. We got you away from him, and we need to keep you safe until he is caught."

Moody rose from his chair slowly and stumped over to stand next to Dawlish. "He evaded execution three months ago, and we will make sure it is done right this time." Hatred showed plainly on his face.

"So, I take it you're police or something."

They nodded. "We're called aurors," Dawlish explained.

"You're wrong. I don't know who this Bart guy is, but the Doctor isn't him. He's a nutter for sure, but he's a good man and my best mate. We been traveling for months now, only just got here."

Moody glanced at Dawlish and gave him a "see, she's blind to him" shrug. Dawlish pursed his lips, then exhaled. "Well, I can see this won't work. I'm sorry, but we'll have to keep you here until Crouch has been found and executed. You're in too much danger."

"What? You let me go right now!" Donna jumped up and towered over the seated Dawlish.

"The house is sealed," Moody interjected. "You can't get out without magic. We could put you back under, or you could just relax and enjoy your stay. There's a nice room for you upstairs, and the place is packed with books and things."

Donna fell back onto the couch, defeated. "Where's the telly?" she grumped.

"The what?"

"Blimey."


	7. Chapter 7

Stepping off the bus onto the sidewalk, the Doctor paused a moment to orient himself. He’d been around London countless times on his travels, and though this London seemed to be mostly identical to his London, this universe was so different that he didn’t want to take any chances. Too much was hidden in this world of magic and he needed to stay alert.

From what he could tell, this portion of the city was exactly like the city he knew and he could plot a path back to either where he had been abducted or back to the TARDIS. His primary objective was to find Donna, and that solidified his choice: Donna was no fool and would retreat to the TARDIS if she could, and if she couldn’t, the only way he might be able to track her was there, too. He turned on his heel and headed in that direction, not running, but walking as quickly as he could.

Physical similarity to his own universe was definitely a comforting advantage. The unfamiliar timestream still nagged at him, and he scratched at the back of his neck as he walked, as if he might be able to massage the discomfort away. Did magic affect the time vortex in ways that he wouldn’t understand? Possibly; he had no previous experience with magic and couldn’t predict what could be done with it. If he got the leisure, he would have to explore the timestream further, see how this world flows, where things might go in the future.

As he traveled, he maintained vigilance, looking around at every building and every nook that might hide something, and glancing at each person he saw. In this world, anyone could carry a wand, be a direct threat. But he saw not a single person do anything out of the ordinary. If magic was commonplace, people would be using it to make everyday tasks easier, such as levitating a box of magazines from the truck to the newsagent, rather than carrying them. If everyone could teleport, few would be walking on the street. Unless teleporting was difficult or exhausting. After all, transmatting was not commonplace at home, either.

After some observation and consideration, he concluded that magic was rare. The majority of the humans in this world were what the Voldemort called “Muggles,” living their lives much like the humans at home. Did these Muggles know about magic? That didn’t seem likely either, from an economic standpoint. He was absolutely sure that if they did, there would be evidence of wizards selling magic services to Muggles. He doubted that wizards were so different that they would pass up the opportunity to make a profit off their abilities. The fact that he had been attacked and abducted in a quiet, deserted area only supported this theory.

That realization came a moment too late, as he realized that he was now in an alley, having ducked into it as a shortcut. Looking back, he saw a man in long shabby overcoat, leaning against the wall and watching him. The Doctor was sure he wasn’t there a moment ago. He hastened his step, but as he looked ahead, he could see that the alley opened into a vacant lot on a quiet side street. Worse and worse.

The moment he stepped out of the alley, a figure appeared to his side, leveling a wand at him and circling to surround. He didn’t need to turn around to know that the man in the alley had come up behind him with a wand, too. The Doctor raised both hands, holding them at about the level of his ears, then moved to his right so he could get a look at both of them.

The figure to his right was a petite but strong woman with a pale face, dark eyes, and bright blue hair, wearing an ensemble of clothing that could best be described as goth. Her stare was adamant. The other was a tall, worn-looking man, with more gray hair than would be expected for his apparent age and wearing a shabby trench coat over plain utilitarian clothes. He kept his demeanor detached, but the expression in his eyes told the Doctor that he was no less alert or adept than she was.

“Keep those hands out of your pockets!” the woman warned him.

The Doctor nodded. “They’re up. They’re up.”

“We’ve got you, Crouch. Don’t try anything. We’ve got clearance to kill if we have to.” The man’s voice was calm.

“I… I’m not who you think I am.”

“Oh, give it up.” The woman rolled her eyes. “No one believed you in front of the Wizengamot, and they’re not going to believe you now. Lupin, tie him up.”

The man stepped up and pulled the Doctor’s arms behind his back. “ _Incarcerous_.” Black ropes snaked around his arms and legs, immobilizing him.

“No, really, I’m not. You’ve got the wrong person. What did this Barty Crouch do?”

They ignored him. Lupin patted the pockets of the Doctor’s trousers, coat, and jacket, then reached into the left breast pocket and pulled out the sonic screwdriver. “Oddest wand I’ve ever seen. It’s metal! He’s not carrying anything else.” He handed it to the woman.

“That’s my screwdriver.”

She examined the device. “It’s made of metal and wires. Like no wand I’ve ever seen.” Pointing her wand at it, she murmured, “ _Specialis revelio_ ,” but nothing happened. She then pointed the blue end of the screwdriver at a rock and, with a swishing motion ending with a flick, intoned, “ _Wingardium leviosa_! No, doesn’t respond at all.”

“I told you. It’s a screwdriver.”

Staring pointedly at the Doctor, she tucked the screwdriver into one of her own pockets. “No wand?” The woman eyed the bound man up and down. “Didn’t get a new one by now?”

The Doctor tried again. “Because I’m not Barty Crouch!” 

“Let’s silence him before he tries anything, Tonks,” Lupin suggested. “Don’t take any chances.”

Tonks raised her wand, but as she opened her mouth, a dreadful cold enveloped them. The two wizards spun, looking around and up.

“Dementors?” Lupin breathed.

“There they are!” Tonks pointed upwards. “Gotta be Fudge. Look how many there are! He’s taking no chances this time! _Expecto patronum_!” Silver vapor in the form of a jack rabbit leapt from her wand and flew into the sky.

The Doctor stared up in the direction the jack rabbit was flying, but saw nothing, though he couldn’t tell if it was because of the blurry oppression that was taking over his mind. The entire world went gray as all hope and happiness drained from his hearts. Unbidden, horrible memories dredged from his ancient past flew in front of his eyes and taunted him.

Falling to his knees and then heavily to the ground, as the ropes prevented him from catching himself, the Doctor screwed his eyes tightly closed, but there was nothing he could to do stop it. The face of a brown-haired boy swam in front of his eyes, telling him, “I’ll find my own way.” “Adric?” he murmured, his voice hoarse. Then more faces: a blond girl on a cold Norwegian beach fading into nothingness; a dark-haired girl flying out of a breached airlock; another aging to dust before his eyes; a pretty woman in a servant’s dress falling into the heart of a nuclear storm drive; the only other member of his species in existence dying in his arms. Then a thousand more faces: some he failed to save, others he’d had no choice but to kill, and even more whose lives had been forever ruined by him, directly or indirectly. He gasped and gagged, kicking and writhing.

Behind it all, a low keening grew slowly, right behind his eyes, developing into screams, crescendoing through his mind, threatening to burst his skull: the anguish of billions of souls extinguished by his own hand.

. _ . _ . _ . _ .

The witch and wizard directed their patronuses around the sky, rebounding the dementors. There were at least fifteen of them, sent to deliver the Dementor’s Kiss to Barty Crouch, Jr., this time without fail. At first, they didn’t notice the reaction of their quarry. Tonks was the first to hear the grunts and moans. Looking down, the sight of Crouch, crazed and delirious, destroyed her concentration. Her Patronus winked out.

“What’s wrong with him?” She dropped to a squat and tried to stop his writhing by steadying him with her hands.

“Tonks!” Lupin reprimanded.

“Right!” Still squatting, she fired her patronus back up into the air, with one hand on the prostrate man, trying to steady him, but his manic gyrations knocked her off-balance and she fell backwards. Screaming a word she didn’t recognize, he convulsed, his bound legs catching Lupin behind the knees and almost sending him sprawling into the dirt.

“Shift!” she yelled. “Get away from him or he’ll knock us both over!” They jumped a few feet away and concentrated on driving off the last few dementors, while the figure on the ground screamed and writhed. When the last dementor flew off, Crouch wailed one last time. His body rigid, his eyes flew open sightlessly. He collapsed, his bound arms awkwardly and painfully splayed beneath his back.

Tonks dropped down next to him and rolled him onto his side to ease the strain on his arms. Leaning over, she positioned her ear in front of his face. He was still breathing. “Never seen a reaction like that before.”

Lupin squatted beside Tonks and felt Crouch’s cheek. The skin was cold and clammy. “Me neither. Even with the worst Death Eater in Azkaban, where there are far more dementors than what we just had. Crouch was imprisoned for over a year. This isn’t new to him. Let’s get him to Dumbledore before more of those arrive.”

Tonks nodded. Awkwardly, she lifted the inert body to a sitting position, then hugged it tightly and Disapparated. Lupin took a moment to cast about, searching for anyone who might have noticed the commotion. Satisfied that they had been unobserved, he also vanished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case this detail seems wrong, Tonks' patronus is a jack rabbit at this point in time. It changes into a wolf later in the HP books.


	8. Chapter 8

Lupin paced the length of the infirmary room, back and forth, while keeping an eye on the unconscious man in the third bed. With school not in session, there were no nurses in the castle, and for that, he was glad. He wouldn’t want Madame Pomfrey, or anyone else, for that matter, to be around when the Death Eater woke up.

To be fair, though, as he thought about the situation, it didn’t add up. Barty Crouch, Jr. had been given the Dementor’s Kiss, which ripped out his soul and left his body empty, worse than dead. Normally, it didn’t take long for the body to then wither and die. Severus Snape and Minerva McGonagall had been present when the deed was done, and while Lupin didn’t consider Snape to be the most trustworthy wizard in the world, McGonagall’s testimony was unassailable. As far as he knew, there was no way to reverse a Dementor’s Kiss.

So how does a man drained of his soul by a dementor reappear as a living, whole human being? Crouch didn’t have a twin (that Lupin knew of, anyway). It had been two hours since he had been brought here, so a Polyjuice Potion would have worn off by now. The man claimed that he wasn’t Barty Crouch, dressed like a Muggle, and carried Muggle artifacts. Could it be possible for two unrelated men to look so much alike?

“No change, huh?” Tonks peeked in at the infirmary door.

“Same. I tried to wake him, maybe fifteen minutes ago, but he’s still unconscious. He’s not sleeping.”

Tonks tried to skirt the door and bumped her shoulder rather painfully into it. “Ow! I still think we should _rennervate_ him. I’d no idea a dementor could knock a person out like this.”

“Well, the more bad memories someone has, the more a dementor will affect him. Granted, I’ve not much experience with dementor victims, but I was there when Harry encountered his first. He fainted, but only for a couple of minutes. He got better at resisting it as he became more used to them.” Lupin turned to look at Crouch. “He was in Azkaban for over a year. You’d think he… well, no one gets used to it, but the way he reacted…”

“They fall, they cry, they despair. He… I thought he was going to rip himself apart. I’ve never heard of that before.”

A step outside the door portended the arrival of the headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore. An old wizard, much of his face was hidden behind a long white beard, but his eyes were serious and concerned. His plain silk robes swished as he walked. “Tonks, Lupin. Thank you for standing guard. Not very stimulating work, is it?”

“Sometimes I can use a little boring,” Tonks smirked.

The headmaster smiled. “No change, I see.” The statement didn’t require a response. Stroking his long white beard absentmindedly, he stood at the foot of the bed and gazed at the unconscious man. After a few minutes, he stated in a decided tone, “No.”

“No what?” asked Tonks.

“No, I don’t see how this could possibly be Bartemius Crouch, Jr. He certainly looks like him. Spitting image, I’d say. But the real Barty Crouch would not have allowed himself to be captured so easily. You said he saw you, Lupin?" 

Lupin nodded. "Yes. He seemed nervous... No, not nervous. Alert. But I would have thought he'd do anything to escape once he saw me."

"Exactly. Oh, and you've checked his arm, yes?"

Tonks spoke as she moved to man's side. "Yeah. No Dark Mark. Checked both arms, even." She pushed up the sleeve over the man's left arm, exposing the smooth skin of his inner forearm. There was no trace of a tattoo.

The headmaster shook his head. “This cannot be him. Minerva and Severus witnessed the Kiss, and I inspected the body myself afterward. Barty was quite gone. There’s no way to restore the soul once it’s been removed.”

“Some new Dark Magic, maybe?” Tonks proffered.

"There is always that possibility. But it wasn’t Voldemort’s doing.” The other two wizards began to fidget at the mention of the name. “Severus said that he was as surprised to discover this man walking about as we were, and was just as suspicious.”

“ _If_ he’s telling the truth,” Lupin interjected.

“We’ve already discussed this, Remus. I trust Severus.” Dumbledore’s word was final.

“You don’t have to trust anyone.” Tonks looked Dumbledore in the eye. “You could read his mind." She jerked her head towards the man in the bed.

Dumbledore returned her stare with a serious expression. “That is an unwarranted intrusion, Tonks.”

“Barty Crouch, Jr. is powerful and dangerous. It’ll put us all in danger, if he wakes up without bonds. We just need to know his name. How is Legilimency any worse than using Veritaserum? We do that all the time.”

“A well-constructed argument. Very well.”

Dumbledore turned and fixed his eyes on the man in the bed. “Hmm,” he murmured after a few moments.

“What?” Lupin stepped to Dumbledore’s side.

“No, wait.” After a few more moments, Dumbledore shook his head. “No. I can’t do it.”

“But you said…”

“That’s not what I meant, Tonks. I tried. I can’t read his mind.”

Lupin darted around the bed to get a closer look at the man. “Try again? No use in me trying. Never been much of a legilimens,” he shrugged.

“I tried twice already.”

“How is that possible? Maybe he’s wearing something that blocks it?” Tonks pulled back the covers and started checking the man for jewelry or other objects. “Lupin said his pockets were empty except for that wand thing.”

“Wand thing?” Dumbledore was curious.

“This.” She pulled the odd metal cylinder out of her pocket and held it out to Dumbledore without looking at him. “It’s not a wand. Couldn’t cast a thing with it.”

Dumbledore took it from her and examined it. “Looks like some Muggle device.” He pressed the single button on its side, but nothing happened. “Whatever it is, it wouldn’t work here. Still, delightful! Well, we shall return it to him when he wakes up, I expect.” He placed it on a table next to one of the other beds, far out of the reach of mysterious man. “I don’t know of any object that can block an accomplished legilimens, but that does not mean there can’t be one. Short of stripping him to his skivvies, there’s not much we can do now. I suggest we wait until he wakes up and ask him ourselves.”


	9. Chapter 9

Lupin and Tonks swapped theories back and forth, having nothing better to do while guarding the unconscious man. Dumbledore had settled into a wooden armchair and sat with his hands steepled in front of him, watching the others and offering a word or two here and there. Another hour had passed and Tonks was starting to think about heading to the kitchens to bring up some snacks when the man suddenly shifted and moaned. In a moment, all three wizards had surrounded his bed, watching him as he finally woke up.

Sitting up suddenly, his eyes snapped open, and for a moment, he was staring at nothingness. Then his shoulders slumped, and he buried his face in his hands. “What… what happened?”

Tonks looked from Dumbledore to Lupin, uncertain as to what to do. Lupin held up his wand to indicate that he was on guard, then gestured with his empty hand to go to the man. Tonks nodded and sat next to him on the bed. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Here, have some of this. It helps.” From an open bar of chocolate sitting on the bedside table, she broke off a piece and offered it to him, putting her arm around his shoulders. He ignored her, and she insisted, “No, really. It helps. Eat some.” He made no attempt to take the chocolate, so she threaded it between his hands and pushed it into his mouth.

As expected, some animation returned to his body at the taste of the chocolate, and he looked up from his hands. Recognition of the wizard and witch sprang into his eyes, but there was no hint of fear or anger. Or even surprise. The sadness and despair from the dementor attack still lingered.

“You’re not Barty Crouch, Jr., are you?” Dumbledore’s gentle voice was soothing.

“‘Swhat I been saying,” the man croaked through a mouthful of chocolate..

Lupin leaned forward. “Then who are you?” Dumbledore put a calming hand on his arm.

He swallowed the chocolate. “The Doctor. I’m the Doctor. What have you done to me?” 

The headmaster answered him. “We have done nothing to you. On the contrary, we’ve been keeping you safe while you recovered.”

“Recovered from what? Last thing I remember, she raised her wand and the world froze. From the inside out.” His eyes pierced Tonks. His stare was accusatory, but held no fear or concern for his own safety. She still had her arm around his shoulders and he did not pull away. She was suddenly very uncomfortable, cradling this man of equal parts vulnerability and stoic confidence, and she used the excuse of fetching more chocolate to shift away from him.

“Tonks didn’t do anything. The cold and the confusion came from the dementors, descending from above.”

“I looked up. There was nothing there.” He reflexively took the proffered chocolate from Tonks and stuffed it in his mouth.

Dumbledore drew up a chair and sat down, hands clasped in his lap. “Oh, they were there. You simply could not see them. Only wizards can see dementors. When they get near, they suck all of the happiness out of you and force you to relive the worst moments of your life.” The Doctor’s face twitched. “I can certainly see how you might interpret what you saw and felt as an attack from Tonks here, but I can assure you, she had nothing to do with it.”

Lupin stowed his wand in his pocket. The old wizard waited courteously while the patient chewed and swallowed the chocolate. “My name is Albus Dumbledore. I am the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the infirmary of which you are currently in. This young lady is Nymphadora Tonks, an auror - magical law enforcement officer.” He added that explanation when a twitch of the Doctor’s eyebrow indicated that the word was unknown. “And this is Remus Lupin, an ally. We brought you here under the impression that you were someone else, a dangerous criminal named Barty Crouch, Jr., but we know now that you are not. You are not a prisoner here and may leave whenever you want, but I am afraid that you will be in considerable danger if you do.”

“That’s not a state of life entirely unfamiliar to me. I suppose you’re referring to Voldemort?” Tonks and Lupin both started at the mention of the name. The stunned surprise on all three of the wizards’ faces sparked an amused gleam in the Doctor’s eyes. He pushed the bedclothes off of himself and swung his legs off the bed, then smoothed his blue jacket with his hands.

“Call him ‘You-Know-Who.’ Or ‘He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named.’” Tonks offered him another piece of chocolate as she spoke, but he waved it away.

“Oh, now those names are even worse than ‘The Dark Lord.’ Where’s your creativity?” He leapt to his feet and gazed around at the infirmary.

Dumbledore’s face remained steady and calm, but his eyes twinkled. “And how do you know about him?”

Spying the sonic screwdriver on the table, the Doctor’s face broke into a delighted smile. “Ah, there you are!” he breathed as he dashed over and picked it up. He turned to face the group. “You’re not the only kidnappers on the prowl tonight. Spoke to moldy Voldy about an hour before my pleasant encounter with you two.” 

Tonks and Lupin exchanged confused glances. Few Muggles took the revelation of a world of magic with equanimity, and an encounter with You-Know-Who shook all but the most hardened wizards. This Muggle referred to him with little respect.

“I’m surprised he let you live,” said Lupin.

“Well, I can be very persuasive.” The Doctor pushed the button on the screwdriver, but it remained silent and dark. His brow creased with worry. “Oi, what happened to you?”

“Muggle artifacts do not work within Hogwarts. There is too much magical interference,” Dumbledore informed him.

The Doctor sniffed and stowed the screwdriver in his jacket’s inner pocket. He started strolling around the room, picking up objects here and there and examining them. The wizards turned in their places to watch him. 

“I expect that Voldemort concluded that you’re not Barty Crouch, Jr., and attempted to kill you on the spot,” continued Dumbledore. The Doctor nodded. “He’ll try again, if only because you got away the first time. He is not the only source of danger. The dementors you encountered were sent by the Ministry of Magic. The Minister, Cornelius Fudge, executed Barty Crouch by having the dementors deliver their Kiss, and…”

“...if he thinks I’m Barty Crouch, he wants to make bloody well sure that it works this time.” Spying a complicated silver device behind the window of a cabinet, the Doctor pulled his glasses out of his pocket and put them on to scrutinize it. Leaning forward until his nose almost touched the glass, he buried his hands in his trouser pockets and continued talking with his back to the wizards. “Are there any other factions that have marked me for death?”

“You don’t seem to be too concerned.” Dumbledore seemed positively amused with the Muggle. “But no, not that I know of. We brought you here to ensure you weren’t killed outright, without at least some inquiry into the situation.”

"I thank you for that courtesy."

“Wait,” interjected Lupin. “Where’d you get those glasses? I patted down your pockets. There was nothing in any of them except that wand-thing.”

Pulling his glasses off, the Doctor straightened and turned around. “They’re bigger on the inside.” He stuffed the glasses into his right jacket pocket and produced a white, bulging packet from the same pocket, tossing it to Lupin. “Those dementors, don’t like ‘em. ‘Specially as I can’t see ‘em.” Crossing his arms, he scrubbed down his face with his right hand, thinking hard.

As Lupin, curious, opened the bag, Dumbledore stated, “I doubt the Ministry will use them again. Their use outside Azkaban is highly suspect at the best of times, and whoever ordered them on you will have seen Tonks and Remus and know you’re defended.”

Lupin reached into the bag and pulled out a red piece of candy. He stared at it.

“Jelly baby. Have one. They’re good. Azkaban?”

“Wizard prison. Dementors are the guards.” 

The Doctor shuddered. “Sounds horrible.” 

Lupin ate the candy and offered them around. Dumbledore smiled happily and chose a green one. “Ah yes, thank you. Yes, quite. They are very effective in keeping wizards from using magic to escape, but I must say that I cannot agree with the method.”

The Doctor eyed Dumbledore with respect as he caught the bag of candy Lupin tossed back to him and dropped it back in his pocket. He clasped his hands behind his back for a moment, looking pensive, then shook his head.

"I'm still not getting the whole picture here. One, there's Voldemort, doing the insane evil overlord bit, complete with the skull face. B, I mean two, there's the Ministry, who'll zap me from a distance without so much as a trial. And then three, there's you lot, the magic police, who picks me up and brings me to a _school_. I mean, I may not know about magic, but this doesn't make sense. If I don't know what's going on, I can't be expected to help, and I'm better off taking my chances on my own."

Tonks spoke up. "You won't survive an hour out there alone."

"Already have. I've gotten into and out of tight scrapes, going on a few years now."

"Headmaster?"

"He's the one in danger. He deserves to know."

Tonks nodded, and got to her feet. "You-Know-Who, as you've already guessed, is a Dark Wizard, one of the most powerful ever known. He tried to conquer the entire wizarding world, but he was thought killed fourteen years ago. However, with the help of Barty Crouch, Jr., he came back to life and power three months ago -"

"I know a bloke like that. Several, actually. They never quite stay dead, do they?"

"What?"

"Sorry."

Tonks exhaled in exasperation before continuing. "As far as we know, he's laying low, biding his time while he gathers his old followers and new ones. Problem is, the Minister of Magic doesn't believe You-Know-Who is back. He doesn’t _want_ to believe, so he's waging a war of slander and propaganda against anyone who says so. We’re working in secret to try to spread the word and prepare people for the war that's coming. We're called the Order of the Phoenix and the Headmaster is our leader. I’m an auror and I normally work for the Ministry, but Lupin and I are loyal to the Order when it comes to this."

“Now, see, the ‘Order of the Phoenix!’ Now _that’s_ a name! I was really starting to worry about you people. ‘You-Know-Who,’ blah! But,” and his expression turned serious, “there’s one more thing I’d like to know. Where is Donna?”

“That’s your friend?” When he nodded, Tonks continued. “We don’t know. We do know that You-Know-Who doesn’t have her. That’s all we know for certain.”

The Doctor furrowed his brow. “How would you know that?”

Tonks leaned back in her chair, one eyebrow raised. “We have our spies.”

With a slick smile, the Doctor nodded, impressed. “Good,” he said in a soft, high voice, elongating the vowel. “Then she either made it… home, or…?”

Lupin nodded. “One of the aurors may have found her. Tonks can find out. Where is home? We can check there, too.”

“Er, no, check with your aurors. If she’s not with them, then she’s home and safe.”

Lupin looked dubious, but didn’t press further.

Rather unexpectedly, Dumbledore stood up and approached the Doctor. “Now, it is my turn. I think it is time _you_ came clean with _us_. It is quite obvious that you are keeping a large amount of information hidden. Like you said yourself, if we don’t know what’s going on, we can’t be expected to help. Tell us, who are you?”

The Doctor jammed his hands in his trouser pockets and shrugged. “Just a Muggle in the wrong place and time.”

Dumbledore’s stare was calm but steely. “Your confidence in the face of the unknown is stunning. You have amazing mental resiliency. You survived an encounter with Voldemort, which is something most trained wizards cannot do. Your pockets hold far more items than their volume. And an encounter with a few dementors left you incapacitated for three hours. You are not ‘just a Muggle.’”

“‘Amazing mental resiliency?’ You tried to read my mind, didn’t you?” His eyebrow twitched.

“I admit I did, to determine if you were Barty Crouch, Jr. before you woke up, yes.”

The Doctor smirked. “I’ll excuse the attempt, as I know you were doing it to protect yourselves. You’re right. I’m not ‘just a Muggle.’ I’m not from your world.”

Tonks waved her hands, palms up, in confusion. “We know you’re not a wizard. But that makes you a Muggle.”

“I don’t mean the world of magic. I mean the _world_.” He gestured expansively.

“You mean, a different planet?” Lupin stepped forward to peer at the Doctor, studying his face.

“Pretty much, yup.”

“You have got to be kidding,” spat Tonks, crossing her arms and straightening her shoulders.

“You sound like someone I know.” He stood back and tilted his head to one side. “I’m telling the truth.”

“We’ll see about that!” Tonks pulled out her wand. “ _Homenum revelio!_ ” She gasped and turned to Lupin. “It don’t detect him! I see both of you, but not him.” She turned back to the Doctor. “You’re not human!”

He grinned brightly. “Hullo!”

Dumbledore’s face shone with amazement and delight. “Well, now, it is an evening of wonders. This explains quite a lot. What do you call your people, and where do you come from?”

“My home is called Gallifrey, and I am a Time Lord.”

Dumbledore frowned. “A ‘Time Lord?’ An odd name for a species. Does it mean you have power over time?”

“You know, so many people I’ve told that to, and you’re the first to ask. Some limited power, yes. Through our technology.”

Lupin pursed his lips. “So, could you turn back time to before you were taken by Voldemort and avoid all of this?”

“Good thinking! But no. It doesn’t work that way.” His usual nervous energy getting the better of him, the Doctor started pacing around again. “You can’t turn the clock back. I can travel in time, using my… time ship, you could call it. But I can’t alter what has already happened to me. And some things, it’s very dangerous to change.” The last statement was very quiet. But!” He brightened. “Now you know who I am, and we have work to do.”

Lupin persisted. “But your friend?”

“She’s human, a Muggle. Well, I assume she’s a Muggle. Clever, brash, persistent, and often exasperating, but still just a human.” The Doctor paused for a moment, thinking, then sniffed. “So. What we ultimately need to do is convince everyone that your Barty is dead while Donna and I leave here and never return. That about right?”

“Should be simple,” snorted Tonks, a sarcastic smile in her eyes.

“We should be able to convince the Ministry that you aren’t Barty,” stated Lupin. “The difficulty is making sure You-Know-Who is convinced of Barty’s death.”

“I beg to differ, Remus,” interjected Dumbledore politely. “Voldemort is the easiest one to convince. An article in the _Daily Prophet_ stating that Crouch was captured and executed is enough. The Ministry is the hard part. We already know that we can’t trust Fudge with this.”

The Doctor frowned. “Why is that?”

“When Crouch’s part in the return of Voldemort was revealed, we had him in custody here. The Minister had the dementors execute him without trial or inquiry, against wizarding law. There’s no reason to believe he wouldn’t do it again, if we approach him with you looking exactly like Crouch.”

“Ah.”

“Then we take it out of his hands.” Everyone looked at Tonks. “He’s already given us, the aurors, the authority to kill Crouch on sight. I’ll report back that I found Crouch and killed him myself.”

The Doctor’s jaw dropped in surprise, but before he could speak, Lupin simply said, “No,” his voice firm. 

“What? You don’t think I could do it?” Tonks regarded Lupin, defiant.

“You’re a trained auror. Of course you _could_. But I won’t have you even pretending to be responsible for a cold-blooded killing.” He stepped forward and touched her shoulder lightly.

Tonks pulled away, annoyed. “Doesn’t have to be cold-blooded. Crouch attacked me, we dueled, I won. Simple as that.”

“The more complicated the lies we weave, the more likely the web unravels under the lightest scrutiny.” Dumbledore shook his head. “That story is not one that Voldemort will believe, and I’m sure the _Daily Prophet_ will publish the details. No. The answer lies with Dawlish and Moody.” He turned to the Doctor. “Dawlish is Tonks’ superior. Moody is a… consultant. They either have Donna or will be able to get her if an auror has taken her into custody. We need to convince _them_ that you are simply an unlucky Muggle twin of Barty Crouch. Then, the tale of _their_ execution of a Dark Wizard will be far more believable.”

Tonks snorted. “The difficult part there will be Moody.”

The Doctor turned to her, frowning. “Why’s that?”

"Alastor Moody is one of the greatest aurors of our time, and a very powerful wizard,” Dumbledore explained. “Alas, he fell prey to Barty Crouch, Jr.'s scheme and was imprisoned by him for nearly a year. He nearly died, while Barty took on his form and impersonated him. Alastor prides himself on not taking a man's life when he can avoid it, but I don't think he'll hesitate at the chance in this case."

The Doctor nodded, his expression contemplative. “Power and anger are not a good combination. However, I will take that chance. This needs to end. We’ll just have to talk fast.”

“It’s best if I talk to them first.” Tonks ran a hand through her hair, nervous. “Try to explain without you in the line of fire. Don’t worry, I’ll keep your secrets,” she added quickly.

The Doctor flashed her an appreciative smile. “So, the plan is convince your bosses that I’m not Barty Crouch, Jr., then publicize the fake execution so that Really-Evil-Bloke-Who-No-One-Wants-to-Mention stops searching for me, while Donna and I skip off-planet. I’d like to stop by my time ship, just to make sure Donna’s not already there.”

Lupin nodded. “That shouldn’t be a problem. We can do that while Tonks is meeting with them.”

The headmaster nodded, then tapped his fingertips against each other in front of his beard. “A good plan, or as near a good plan as we can get. I shall leave it to you young people.”

Tonks smiled. She was always far more comfortable when the path ahead was clear. “I’ll set up that meeting near the safe house.” 

Lupin nodded and turned towards the door. “As for me, I’ll get one of the guest rooms ready for you, Doctor. Want some food sent up from the kitchens?” he asked over his shoulder.

The Doctor snagged his coat from the bed next to the one he had recently occupied and slipped it on. “No, thanks. I’m neither hungry nor tired. But, if I may ask a favor?”

“Sure. What do you need?” Lupin turned back towards the Doctor expectantly.

“This is a school. You must have a library.” The Doctor thrust his hands in his pockets, his face shining almost greedily. “A night’s worth of reading about magic? Ohh, brilliant!”

Tonks’ brow furrowed, and she tilted her head. “Why? All the books in the world won’t help you cast a spell.”

“Discovery, Tonks,” said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. “Exploration. Knowledge. The same inquisitiveness that leads one to travel to a new world. Isn’t that right, Doctor?”

“Right you are, sir.”

Dumbledore rose from his chair and inclined his head towards the Doctor. “You are welcome to explore the library, but I recommend staying out of the restricted section. Some of the books are quite dangerous and will take exception to being handled.”

“I thank you, Headmaster.” The Doctor bowed low, his coat sweeping behind him.


	10. Chapter 10

It was a bit later in the morning than Tonks had intended when she finally dragged herself out of bed. She had had a lot to do to set up the events of today, including contacting her fellow auror John Dawlish and setting up a meeting in a secluded place near the safe house he was using. She had then spent at least an hour pacing in her guest room, contemplating how to make Dawlish and Moody (she knew he’d be there) see the truth. Dawlish might be easier than she expected, but Moody would be blind to reason, not that she blamed him. As it was, she had finally dropped, still fully clothed, into the draped bed around two in the morning.

A simple but hot breakfast of toast, jam, and boiled eggs awaited her on the nightstand; the Hogwarts house elves were always most efficient and attentive. As she ate, she attended to her appearance. Being able to change what she looked like at will had its perks. Very few wizards were born with the ability; it was so rare that few wizards even knew it existed. She had been very lucky. Today, she chose shocking-pink hair. She fully expected this day to go pear-shaped and wanted an appropriate color to face it with. 

The Doctor puzzled her, and she couldn’t stop turning everything he had said and done over in her mind. Everything about him was strange - his vibrant energy, his flippant attitude, the distinct impression he gave of always being one step ahead of everyone else - and yet he was incredibly charismatic. She felt drawn to him, not in the way she was drawn to Lupin (she tucked that thought away in her mind as quickly as she could). It was more like she knew she could trust him. And she _knew_ all this after speaking to him - well, listening to him and watching him - for a half an hour. What did he call himself? A Time Lord? Were all of his people like this?

All his confidence, however, did not dispel the feeling of apprehension she had for his safety. He might be from another world - and he certainly hadn’t told them anything else about himself, any actual details - but she was sure that he could be killed the same as anyone else. Yet, he seemed heedless of the danger of walking up to a powerful wizard who wanted him dead. In fact, he seemed to relish the adventure. 

She shook her head to clear the thoughts. It wouldn’t help anyone to dwell on the events of the day. She wasn’t afraid for herself; her concern was for the safety of this odd man. Finished with her breakfast, she shrugged on her jacket and headed out to rendezvous with Lupin.

Lupin was in the common room that was shared by the school’s guest suites. Looking tired, as he always did, he was stretched out on a couch reading a book, but as soon as he heard Tonks’ door open, he clapped the book shut and popped to his feet.

“Good morning, Tonks. Have a good sleep?” He dropped the book on a nearby table.

“Wotcher, Remus. Slept too long, I think, but I needed it.” She patted her pocket to make sure she had her wand.

“Well, we’d better get on. Gonna be a long day.” He moved to the door and held it open for her.

“Gonna be a weird day.” She grinned at Lupin, then crossed the room to the proffered exit, knocking her hip hard into the back of the couch as she passed and grunting at the impact.

The walk to the library was a bit spooky, the halls wide and silent, as school was on summer holiday. Both Lupin and Tonks were graduates of Hogwarts and familiar with its halls, and the trip was quick. Entering the library, they found the Doctor, glasses on, reading with his feet propped up on the table, surrounded by piles of books. If she had to guess, there were easily upwards of fifty tomes piled on the table and floor near the Doctor, and she was sure her estimate was low.

The Doctor looked up and smiled brightly. “Ah, good morning! Your hair! Lovely! Metamorphmagus?”

Tonks blinked and rocked back on her heels. “What?”

“Unless you dyed your hair? Doubt it. Take too much time overnight.”

“How’d you even know that word?”

Leaning sideways over the arm of his chair, the Doctor snaked a long arm down and snagged a tome near the bottom of a pile, knocking over the rest of the books. Flipping it open, he turned to a page and began reading. “ _Most wizards require years of study to transform into animals, and once trained, can only take the form of one specific animal. Rarely, some wizards, called Metamorphmagi, are born with the ability to transform their appearance at will._ This book doesn’t say much more, but that one” - he waved in the direction of a tall stack of books on the far side of the table - “had a whole chapter on it.”

Tonks had trouble finding her tongue. “You… you read _all_ these books overnight?”

“Oh yes. Fascinating stuff! Wish I could do any of it. Would come in handy. _Episkey!_ ” He made a motion with his hand like pointing a wand at Tonks, then laughed like delighted child.

Lupin’s expression was a mixture of incredulity and amusement. “If you don’t mind me saying, I am glad that you can’t perform magic.”

“You are very wise, sir. Power like that should be kept away from people like me.” While a moment ago, his manner had been cheerful, his tone and expression were now dark and serious. He stared at his trainers for a moment, then clapped the book closed, the brooding gone. Leaping up from the chair, he waggled his two books. “Didn’t know how to put them back. The filing’s magic, is it?”

“Yeah.” Tonks waved dismissively. “Leave ‘em. Madame Pince’ll put ‘em away. She’ll probably think Peeves did this.”

He dropped the books on the table. “Peeves?”

“Poltergeist. Makes trouble, he does.”

“Poltergeist!” The Doctor looked around eagerly.

“Doctor! We really should be going.”

“Of course.” He thrust his hands into his pockets and grinned at Tonks. “You have such a splendid world here. I’m going to miss it. Terribly disappointed to leave.”

“Let’s make sure you get to. I still don’t know about this…”

“Oh, easy! Piece of cake. Everything’s all set up, is it?”

Lupin nodded. “Tonks contacted Dawlish and Moody last night and set up a meeting. Donna is with them, so we wait while Tonks meets with them. They won’t budge, I’m sure.”

“Right.” Snagging his overcoat from a nearby chair, the Doctor slipped into it and, sparing one last longing look at the mounds of books, headed for the library door. “Which way is out? So we can Apparate.” In the corridor, he gazed with an admiring expression at the architecture and artwork while waiting for an answer.

Tonks stood bemused. Lupin leaned near her and murmured, “I think in ten short hours he’s learned more about magic than most students here.” Raising his voice, he called forward, “To the left.” He patted Tonks on the back and they followed the Doctor out of the library.

The Doctor spun on his heel and strode off to the left, his coat flaring behind him. “Right, then! Allons-y!”


	11. Chapter 11

None of Donna’s complaints or tirades had any effect on Dawlish or Moody. She had spent the evening in alternating bouts of rage and silent sulking, and eventually stomped off to bed upstairs. She really didn’t have anything to complain about other than being trapped: the room and bed were comfortable, the food was fantastic (she couldn’t believe either of them could have been the one to cook it), and the house was packed with things to do… if you were a witch. Since she wasn’t, she couldn’t activate most of the devices available, and none of the books in the ample bookshelf were published after the year 1848. The morning brought nothing new. Her attitude had improved, but neither man cared to talk to her more than what they felt was required. She spent most of the morning reading a book on the history of wizard music, 1500-1700. Actually, she spent most of the morning falling asleep while pretending to read a book on the history of wizard music, 1500-1700.

At about a quarter to twelve, she was woken up by the loud _clump-clump-clump_ of Moody’s wooden leg as he walked to the front door. Dawlish saw her jerk awake and began speaking.

“So you know, we’re to meet with our colleague in fifteen minutes, to do an exchange. They’ll give us Crouch - your ‘Doctor’ - and you’re to go with them. They’ll fix you up right nice, so that you can go back to your life before him without any problems.”

“I told you, he’s not anybody. He’s my mate. He’s the Doctor! You let him go!”

Dawlish seemed about to retort, but bit his lip and said nothing.

Moody, peering out of the curtains at the front windows, grumped. “She’s too much like Dumbledore, Tonks is: too ready to see the good that’s not there. She should have executed him herself, before he had the chance to charm her.” He grunted. “The day I can’t trust an auror…”

Donna’s eyes narrowed. _The auror with the Doctor is having doubts about the whole thing? That’s a good sign._

“Not wanting to kill a man isn’t a bad thing, Mad-eye,” replied Dawlish, careful to keep his expression neutral. “She’ll do it if she has to, but she doesn’t have to, this time. I don’t blame her. Normally, you’d be the one saying that.”

Both of Moody’s eyes focused on Dawlish’s face, his expression dangerous. “This isn’t normal. Remember that.”

Dawlish returned his gaze, calm and direct.

Grunting, Moody left the window. “Let’s go.” Without stopping for Dawlish’s acknowledgement, he pulled out his wand, turned, and vanished.

Donna eyed Dawlish. “You’re not going to tie me up?”

“No. I trust you won’t run away. And if you do, then I’ll _Stupefy_ you again.”

“Brilliant.” She sighed.

Dawlish, wand in hand, grasped Donna’s arm firmly, apologizing for the force. He turned in place, and the world went dark, imploding on her.

Donna came out of the Apparation stumbling and gasping for breath. She was pleased she kept her breakfast down. It took a moment for her to recover enough to see that she was now in a grassy part of some city park, not sure which one. The area was ringed with trees, except towards the greater part of the park; there were joggers running down a cement path and families enjoying picnics, all far away. Donna looked around for a bench in vain, and plopped down on the ground. Dawlish had already moved from her side, joining Moody as they cast spells around a large area.

“What’re you doing?” Donna called to them.

“Anti-Muggle spells, so they can’t see us. Keep them out of the way for a bit,” Dawlish muttered. Donna didn’t see any difference, and shrugged. After a round of magic, Dawlish joined Donna on the grass while Moody drifted around the glade, maintaining vigilance. Donna could see that Moody’s magical eye was constantly whizzing around in all directions, and she wondered how he didn’t get dizzy from it.

“Ah, there.” Moody indicated a direction off to Donna’s right, towards the path that ran through the park. The magical eye must have great range, as she couldn’t see anyone in that direction other than a couple of families and the odd jogger. But, with the object of the meeting approaching, she couldn’t sit still anymore. Getting up, she wandered as far away from where Moody was looking as she could get without leaving where she thought the magical protection circle ended.

“Don’t go farther than that,” Dawlish warned her.

“Yeah. I’m just walking. Cool it off, wand boy.” She was fidgeting again, and she clapped her hands down on her sides to still them. 

It wasn’t long until she saw her. The small woman had bright pink hair and wore black leather. Her air of command made her far more menacing than Dawlish, at least in Donna’s poorly-informed opinion.

Dawlish rose from the grass to await the approaching woman, situating himself directly in front of Donna, about ten feet ahead. He murmured back to her, “Stay behind me. Don’t get any nearer.”

“Don’t be stupid. I want to see this at least.” She stood up and shifted to the side. Dawlish groaned, but didn’t move.

The pink-haired woman stopped about fifteen feet away in front of the two aurors. They all had their wands out, though held loosely at their sides, not up like weapons. She greeted them first, nodding at each. "Dawlish. Mad-eye." 

Dawlish returned, "Tonks," while Moody merely grunted.

"I take it that's Donna." She smiled directly at the red-haired woman. "Wotcher."

"Hey," Donna replied in a neutral tone.

"Where is he? I told you to bring him." Dawlish's inflections clearly indicated that he outranked her and that her disobedience did not please him.

She was not cowed. "We need to talk about this first. He is not who you think he is."

Dawlish crossed his arms. "So you said in your message last night. If he's not Barty Crouch, then who is he?"

"He calls himself the Doctor. He's a Muggle who happens to look like Crouch. He's truly non-magical."

"See? That's what I've been trying to tell you!" Donna blurted. Dawlish turned to cast a silencing glance at Donna. Moody remained impassive, staring at Tonks. 

"You're telling me that Barty Crouch, Jr. has some Muggle lookalike, or a squib twin brother that no one knew about? Preposterous." Dawlish shook his head, rolling his eyes.

Tonks was getting angry, balling her fists. She stepped foward, closer to Dawlish. "I didn't think you'd listen. I hoped, but I knew you wouldn't."

"You've been Imperiused. We need to take you to St. Mungo's."

Tonks barked a laugh, tossing her head back. "I haven't been Imperiused. Do you really think that he could have successfully done that to me, Lupin, and Dumbledore? Because we were all there, and we all know the truth."

Throwing his hands up, Dawlish turned and walked around a few steps. "Oh! That's where you hid him. Don't know why I didn't think of checking the school."

"You didn't answer my question."

Moody’s voice cut across the two of them. “Doesn’t matter. We have a duty to perform. ‘We’ includes you, Tonks. It’s time to hand him over. It’s time to end this. Now.” He was not bothering to conceal his contempt. Donna understood that Dawlish didn't believe the two women and was simply trying to do his job, but Moody was unreasonable. There was something going on here. Possibly something personal between him and this Crouch guy?

Tonks strode over to stand directly in front of Moody, her stance defiant. “I know what happened that night at Hogwarts. I know that Fudge had Crouch killed, without trial, without even verifying his guilt. The man was under Veritaserum, Mad-Eye, and he would have told Fudge everything, if he’d just asked. I know that Crouch did terrible things to you, and terrible things in your name, but even you would have given him his due process, if only because we needed to know _why_.

“That’s all I’m asking here. I’ll bring the Doctor here, but I demand a guarantee that you won’t kill him until you have had an adequate chance to judge for yourself. He is not Barty Crouch.”

Moody stared at her, barely containing outrage at her presumption of telling him what he would or would not have done, but before he opened his mouth to speak, Dawlish cut in. “Tonks is right, Mad-Eye. We need to do this right. Be ready for any treachery, but he has the right to speak his piece.”

Mad-eye spun and stumped off to the edge of the clearing, fuming. Dawlish nodded to Tonks, “I think that’s a yes. Go get him. Appear right where you are now. Got it?”

“Course. Back in a mo’.” She turned in place and disappeared.

Donna discovered that she had been holding her breath and exhaled long and slow. Moody was angry and dangerous, and she didn’t trust him. She needed to watch him carefully, for the Doctor. She tried to calm herself down by watching the other patrons of the park going about their business. She saw how the passersby never even looked in their direction, as if they couldn’t even see the clearing. This magic was very powerful.

A couple of minutes later, a tall, brown-haired man in a shabby overcoat appeared, a little to the left of where Tonks had been standing. He nodded to Dawlish and called a somber greeting to Moody before moving off to his right. About ten seconds later, Tonks appeared with the Doctor, to whose arm she was holding tightly.

“Doctor!” Donna called. She tried to go to him, but Dawlish turned and blocked her, arms outstretched.

“No, stay back.”

“Donna! Stay back. Don’t come near me!” The Doctor held out a hand, palm forward, to halt her advance, and urgency was plain on his face.

“All right then.” She wrung her hands but didn’t move, and Dawlish turned back to the Doctor. 

Moody, who had watched the arrival from the edge of clearing, advanced now. “Bartemius Crouch, Jr., I order you to submit. Surrender your wand. Any hostile action and I will end you right now.” His arm directly out in front of him, he strode forward until the tip of his wand was two feet from the Doctor, pointing at his sternum.

The Doctor held both his hands up, demonstrating they were empty. “I’m not Bartemius Crouch, Jr., no matter how much I may look like him. I’m the Doctor. I don’t have a wand or any other weapon.” Careful to keep his face and voice neutral, he looked at the auror, his gaze level.

“Coward!” Moody shuddered with rage, his free hand balled into a fist. “Always hiding behind lies and disguises. ‘I’m not Bartemius Crouch! It wasn’t me, Father!’” His tone mocked the Doctor’s tenor. “Can’t face it, eh? Can’t take responsibility for your own actions?”

“Just listen a moment! I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m really not who you think I am.” The Doctor was hunched forward, his hands by his ears, palms forward. “I’m just a Muggle who looks like him. Don’t take my word for it. Use your magic to figure it out.”

“I’ll use my magic, all right, if you don’t stop your babbling. _Crucio!_ ” The Doctor’s entire body jerked and he swayed on his feet, but he maintained direct eye contact with Moody, his brow furrowed with concentration. 

Donna screamed, “Stop that!” She lunged forward, but Dawlish caught her, holding her back. “Make him stop!” she pleaded with the auror.

“Trained to resist that, are you? Then…” Eyes blazing with anger, Moody drew breath to cast another spell.

“No!” screamed Tonks. “You promised not to hurt him. You promised to listen to him.” 

Lupin moved to position himself between the Doctor and Moody, but the Doctor waved him away. “No, don’t.”

“I promised no such thing,” Moody spat at her. “It’s time for him to die, for good this time, for all of his crimes. For what he did to me.” 

“Mad-eye, stop this. Now.” Dawlish’s command above the rest of the voices, drawing Moody’s attention. Though Donna still struggled against him, his speech was even. “You know Crouch better than all of us. Look at him! Is he anything like that crazed Death Eater? Do you doubt Tonks, Remus, and Dumbledore? Think, man! If there’s a single doubt in your mind that this is Crouch, you need to stop.”

Mad-eye drew himself up to stand against his comrades. “I doubt nothing. This is the man who captured me, tortured me for nine months in my own trunk, who took my face and used it to lead Potter to the Dark Lord. I don’t know how he’s managed to charm all of you, but he cannot deceive me!” Staring the Doctor directly in the eyes, he raised his wand and opened his mouth to speak the Unforgiveable Curse. “ _Avada-_ ”


	12. Chapter 12

“Wait, wait, wait! Just hold on! Hold on!” Hunched forward, the Doctor stepped back, wagging his index fingers up to forestall the spell. Moody inexplicably did not finish the phrase. His hand shaking, he glared at the Doctor. “Use your magic! Read my mind if you must. I know you pride yourself on your justice, on not killing unless absolutely necessary. You don’t want to do this if there’s even a possibility that I’m not Barty Crouch.”

“Mad-eye!” Tonks pleaded. “You taught me that we can’t assume anything. You can’t let your anger condemn an innocent man to death. Prove to yourself who he is!”

Still with his wand leveled at the Doctor’s chest, Moody glared at Tonks. He exhaled, his breath raspy, then in a low voice, intoned, “ _Legilimens._ ”

The Doctor snapped his eyes shut. For a moment, Donna thought that Moody had cast some spell to take control of him, but then she realized that both of them were concentrating. Moody’s natural eye was unfocused, and his expression transformed from anger to confusion.

“You’re… controlling the things… you’re letting me see.” Breaking the spell, he stared at the Doctor. “You’re a Muggle. How are you doing that?”

Still holding his hands up, though limply, the Doctor opened his eyes slowly. “And?”

Moody closed his eyes and rasped, “You’re not Barty Crouch. That, I saw... You call yourself the Doctor. You’ve called yourself that for so long…” Opening his eyes, he gazed at the Doctor, an almost fearful look on his face. “You have no magic, but you have… time? And I saw… other things. I don’t know.” He shook his head to clear his mind. Gathering himself, he exhaled, his usual gruff command returning to his countenance. “I apologize, Doctor, for not investigating you adequately. I mean, correctly. I should not have allowed my… history to cloud my judgment.” He offered his hand to the Doctor. 

Wriggling out of Dawlish’s hold, Donna peered at Moody. She suspected that he was trying to conceal his confusion about what that spell showed him and his guilt about what he had almost done under a gruff facade.

The Doctor grinned and shook his hand enthusiastically. “Well, we all make mistakes now and again. No harm done, eh?”

While Tonks and Lupin smiled in relief, Dawlish was confused, looking back and forth between the three wizards. He clapped his hand to his forehead. “Wait. So, he’s not…?”

“No, he’s not,” spat Moody, spinning and stumping away a few steps, and convincing Donna that he was angry with himself and trying to cover it up. 

Tonks ran a hand through her hair. “Okay. Let’s finish this up. Now, the Doctor and Donna are going to leave so we’ll never have this problem again - I’ll explain that all later.” She held up a hand to silence Moody, who had spun back and opened his mouth to ask the obvious question. “Our part is to spread the word that Barty Crouch, Jr. was caught and executed…” 

As Tonks and the Doctor described the plan to the others, Donna relaxed, relieved that the Doctor was safe and that they’d be departing this mad world of magic shortly. As she circled around Dawlish to move next to the Doctor and give him a hug, a man on the jogging path caught her eye, not because he was anything much out of the ordinary - he looked like a bum wandering through the park - but he was looking at the gathering of wizards as he strolled. The Doctor and Tonks had their backs to him, and the other wizards were too intent on Tonks to notice him. Donna thought for a moment. _Didn’t they cast spells to stop people from seeing here? Or wait, it was to stop Muggles from…_

“DOCTOR! DOWN!” she screamed as the man pulled something out of his pocket while he dashed behind a large tree. Donna lunged and tackled the Doctor, shoving him down as a flash of green light whizzed by them. The wizards threw themselves to the ground and began firing spells at the man, but he had cover while they didn’t. A ray of red light hit Tonks and she sprawled limp on the grass.

Pinned on his back under Donna, the Doctor regained his wind. “Donna, good work!” He flashed a brilliant smile at her as she crawled off him. “Now, stay here, stay low!” Pulling out his sonic screwdriver, he rolled over and scrambled towards Lupin, who motioned for him to stay still.

“Doctor, stay down. We’ll get him. That’s Wormtail.” Lupin’s voice cut across the other wizards’ magic words.

The Doctor was busy adjusting his screwdriver. “Yeah, we’ve met.” Another jet of red light passed over Lupin’s head. “Just… need to.. change… this...”

Donna crawled towards Tonks, trying to stay flat on the ground, though she noticed that the man wasn’t casting spells at her. He had more important opponents to worry about. She reached the pink-haired woman: she was breathing, but insensible, even after a couple of light slaps to the cheek. Dawlish was scrambling off to the side, trying to get to a vantage point where he would be able to see around Wormtail’s tree.

“Got it!” At the excitement in the Doctor’s voice, Donna glanced back. The Doctor was crawling closer to Lupin. "Can you cast _Sonorus_?"

"Sure..." Lupin looked puzzled but raised his wand to point at the Doctor's throat.

"No, not on me. On this." He presented the screwdriver.

Lupin nodded and pointed his wand at the device. " _Sonorus_."

"Thanks!" The Doctor aimed the screwdriver towards Wormtail and pressed the button. Donna saw the tip glow blue, but it didn't make its usual whirring noise: the only sounds she could hear were spell words and a sudden eruption of frantic barking from beyond where Wormtail was hidden. Turning to look, she saw Wormtail stick his hand out from behind the tree to cast a spell.

" _Avada Kedavra!_ " The words were clear, but nothing happened. From her angle, she could see the confusion on Wormtail's face, and he looked quizzically at his wand.

From her right, she heard Dawlish yell, " _Stupefy!_ " A jet of red light flew towards Wormtail, but disappeared before it reached its target.

Wormtail tried again, " _Stupefy!_ " but nothing issued from his wand.

"Now,” the Doctor murmured to Lupin, “ _Stupefy_ on three. One... Two... _Three!_ " 

The Doctor released the sonic screwdriver's button as Lupin roared, " _Stupefy!_ " The jet of light hit Wormtail in the shoulder and he crumpled to the ground. 

The Doctor scrambled up, ran to Donna, and gave her a great bear hug, his expression radiant. “Donna!”

“Doctor!” she barely breathed, the air squeezed out of her.

Dawlish jumped up and ran to Wormtail, binding him with the magic ropes that Lupin once used on the Doctor. Lupin had already dashed to Tonks, to counter the spell that had knocked her out. Moody was slowly getting to his feet. 

“This is Peter Pettigrew!” Dawlish was standing over the inert body, his astonishment clearly written on his face. “How could that be? He was killed by Sirius Black fourteen years ago.”

“That’s what they wanted you to think.” Moody adjusted his leg and stumped over to Dawlish.

“What?”

“Black didn’t kill Pettigrew. Pettigrew was the traitor. He’s the one that betrayed the Potters to You-Know-Who, and when he fell, Pettigrew faked his own death to make it look like Black was the traitor and had killed him to shut him up.” 

“That’s impossible!” Dawlish sputtered. He looked at Tonks and Lupin, who both nodded their corroboration. 

Donna gave the Doctor an inquisitive look, and he shrugged. “I’ve no idea,” he whispered to her. They walked over to join the two aurors, Lupin and Tonks coming over a moment later, though Tonks was still a bit unsteady.

“Then we’ve got to take him in, tell the Ministry about this. We’re hunting for the wrong man.” With one arm akimbo, he ran the other hand through his hair, staring down at Wormtail.

“No,” the Doctor interrupted. “Wormtail has to go back to Voldemort.” All of the wizards winced at the mention of the name. “He needs to be sure that I’ve been killed, and the best way to do that is for Wormtail to report that I’ve been executed.”

Dawlish and Moody spoke at the same time. “You-Know-Who?” “He knows about you?” Dawlish then rounded on Moody. “Wait, you all think You-Know-Who is back again?”

“He is, Dawlish. Three months now.” Moody crossed his arms. Lupin and Tonks nodded.

“That crazy stuff that Potter spouted after the Triwizard Tournament? You can’t possibly believe that!” He stepped back from his comrades, the stunned amazement on his face clearly indicating that he thought they had suddenly gone insane.

Tonks moved forward and put a hand on Dawlish’s arm. “It’s all true, John. You-Know-Who is back, and Wormtail’s working with him.”

“Do you have proof? Does Fudge know about this? We’ve got to inform the Ministry.”

Moody shook his head. “I’m sorry about this, John.”

“What?”

Moody raised his wand. “ _Confundo_.” Dawlish’s eyes unfocused and he swayed on his feet. “That weakness is an advantage sometimes.” 

The Doctor was appalled. “What d’you do that for?”

Moody smirked. “He’s a great auror, but too literal and too loyal to the Ministry. Fudge is intent on burying the truth about You-Know-Who, and one more voice against him won’t make a difference. If Dawlish brings this to him, he’ll find himself working in the Ludicrous Patents Office. Better to let him remember you getting killed by me. Much cleaner that way.” 

“There’s got to be a better way.”

“Maybe. But there’s more going on here than you know, Doctor. We’ll handle it our way.” The Doctor inhaled to protest, but thought better of, acquiescing and stepping back. “I need to get him out of here before he comes out of it and I have to do it again. Tonks, I trust you to take care of Pettigrew. Stop by afterwards and tell me what in the world just happened. Good work.” Tonks nodded, all business, but her eyes shone with pride. He turned to the two Muggles. “Doctor. Donna.” He opened his mouth to say more, then changed his mind. Grasping the dazed Dawlish tightly by the arm, he turned on the spot and they both vanished.

Lupin nudged Wormtail’s inert form with his toe, his face a mask of distaste. “Let’s deal with him. Memory Charm should do the trick, make him remember Moody killing you, Doctor.”

“No, that’s not good enough.” The Doctor knelt by Wormtail, gazing at his face. “There are various ways of breaking through a Memory Charm, which means that it just suppresses memories, not erases them. And I’m sure that Mr. Insane Evil Snakeman won’t hesitate to try to break his own servant.”

Donna gaped. “How would you know -?”

“Later, Donna. Let me do this,” he addressed the wizards without turning. “That way, if Voldemort does break the charm, there won’t be any memory of this day to give him any more information.” The Doctor positioned his hands on either side of Wormtail’s head, then closed his eyes. Ten seconds later, he opened his eyes and released his hold. “It’s done. Now you can use the Memory Charm.”

The aurors were speechless. Tonks blinked a few times, then inhaled deeply before moving to Wormtail. She pulled out her wand and murmured, “ _Obliviate_.”

“You are full of surprises, Doctor.” Lupin’s tone and expression were serious and a bit apprehensive.

The Doctor stood up and squared himself with Lupin. “Donna and I will be leaving this world very soon, for good. Best thing I can do for you.”

“Yes. Though…” Lupin bit his lip. “You’d be a powerful ally in the fight that’s coming, against You-Know-Who. We’ll need all the help we can get.”

“Wish we could, but I think I’d cause more problems than I’d solve. Oh! Could you fix this?” He he held up the sonic screwdriver.

“Of course.” Lupin waved his wand at the device. “ _Quietus_. What was that for, anyway? How did that stop Wormtail’s spells?”

The Doctor fiddled with the sonic, then pressed its button. It lit up and whirred merrily like usual. “Oh, it stopped all the magic, not just his. Back at the school, the headmaster said my sonic wouldn’t work because of magical interference, right? I figured it would work the other way around. I amplified the sonic field as much as I could, and then you cast your amplifier on it. With all that technological interference, the magic didn’t work.” He grinned, delighted at his own cleverness. “Oh, and I set it to ultrasound, so it wouldn’t blow our ears off. Bothered the dogs, though.”

Lupin smirked. “Ingenious.”

“Best be off,” Tonks suggested, pointing her wand at Wormtail and murmuring, " _Finite incantatem_." The magic ropes binding him melted away. Circling around to Donna, she grinned. “One last Apparation, one last chance to heave your lunch. Where to, Doctor?”

The Doctor described the location of the TARDIS, and the two wizards Disapparated with their passengers.


	13. Chapter 13

“Sorry to keep you trapped in here, Donna.” The contrition on the Doctor’s face made her smile. That he cared so much about her happiness that he would feel bad about such a minor thing warmed her heart. 

“Trapped in the TARDIS? That’s like being trapped in Disneyland. Plenty to see in here. Besides, I could use a bit of relaxation right about now.” She held up the book that was open in her lap. “And, this isn’t a history of wizard music, 1500-1700.”

Stuck waiting for the coordinate calculations to complete, they were lounging in the TARDIS library, which today appeared like an enormous study from a country manor: four stories of polished mahogany shelves ringing the room, with movable ladders. The Doctor and Donna sat in cushy armchairs in the center of the ground floor, beneath the glass dome far above them that revealed an open blue sky with fluffy clouds, though Donna was not quite sure it was the same sky she would see if she stepped out of the TARDIS right now. She picked up her mug of tea from the end table nearby and sipped. 

“Oh, that reminds me!” The Doctor jumped up from his chair and, thrusting a hand in his pocket, drew out a worn-looking leather tome. He flipped through it, grinning with his tongue curled upwards.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a book on advanced magical theory. I had a lovely long chat with the headmaster of the school of magic, one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Magnificent name! Splendid chap. Gave me this book. Back in a mo’.” Taking the rungs by twos, he bounded up a ladder to the second floor and carefully placed the book on a shelf. He then descended about a third of the way down the ladder and leapt the rest of the way down to the ground. “Very wise man, and a powerful wizard. Wish we had more time here. I could have learned a lot from him.”

“ _You_ learn from _him_? Never thought I’d hear you say that.”

The Doctor plopped down in his chair and picked up his lime and soda. “Everyone has something to learn, and everyone has something to learn from.”

“Well, aren’t we stuck here for another couple of days? We could go back, spend them at the school. No one would know.” Donna stopped. Though the Doctor was trying to appear neutral, absorbed in sipping his drink, she could tell something else was bothering him. She placed her mug on the table and leaned forward. “What’s wrong? What are you not telling me this time?”

Putting down his glass, he ran his hand through his hair, gazing at her intently. Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, he inhaled deeply, then murmured, “I almost ruined everything, Donna.”

“What? How? You're the one who stopped that Worm bloke.”

“No, before that. I… It’s complicated. So, Voldemort, right? Evil wizard, evil minions, likes snakes, the whole bit. He was killed a while back and has just returned. Don’t look at me like that. Happens all the time. The Ministry of Magic won’t admit he’s back, so Tonks and Moody and Lupin and Dumbledore are working in secret to get ready for him to make his move.

“Remember what I told you, Donna, back in Pompeii? I can see what is, what was, what could be, what must not. This is what I can see, here in this world.

"There's a war coming for these people, these wizards. Terrible things are going to happen, and many, many people are going to die, both wizards and Muggles. All of the timelines lead to this, and to one person in particular, someone I don’t know. And this is a fixed point: the war must happen, though its outcome is not fixed. I don’t know who will win. But it's in the future, maybe three, four years from now. Our friends here are preparing for it, and if they are fully prepared, they have a good chance of winning. 

“But their only chance is to have that time to prepare. I don't know what it is that Voldemort has that makes him so powerful now - some weapon, maybe the lack of strength in his opposition, perhaps it's some unassailable defense. Maybe the person the timelines are converging on isn’t ready yet." He shrugged. "But if the war starts now, Voldemort will win.”

He scrubbed his hand down over his mouth and chin, then exhaled before continuing.

“You saw what happened when Dawlish recognized Wormtail. He was going to bring it to the attention of the Ministry. It was more than just his job on the line. The moment the Ministry acknowledges the return of Voldemort…” He exhaled heavily. “The war almost started today, and it would have ended in death and madness. All because I look like a dead wizard.”

“You can’t blame yourself for that. Even just being here in this universe was a matter of chance.”

The corner of his mouth twitched with a wry smile. “I seem to be pretty good at bringing disaster wherever I go.”

Donna pursed her lips. “That’s rubbish. Doesn’t matter who’s to blame. Matters what you do about it.” She got up and, moving to the Doctor, sat on the arm of his chair, putting her arm around his shoulders. “That’s what you do. You fix stuff. You can’t get bogged down in who’s to blame, ‘specially when it’s not you or anyone. C’mon.” She jumped up and dragged him out of the chair by the hand. “Show me the swimming pool.”

“Now?”

“We have two days here? You’re not going to spend it mooning around, and I’m not going to spend it dry. Bet you sink like a rock.” 

Ignoring her attempts to pull him out of the room, he put his hands on her shoulders and looked deep into her eyes. "You saved my life, you know, knocking me to the ground like that."

Donna snorted and mock-punched him in the arm. "Just trying to knock some sense into you."

"No, I mean it. That green light? It's a death spell. It touches you and you snuff it. Nothing you can do. Only one person's ever survived it, a tiny baby, and no one knows why."

"A baby? Blimey, who casts a death spell at a baby? This world is mental."

She tried to pull him towards the door again, but he held her back once more. “Thank you. You always bring me back down to the ground. Donna, you’re brilliant.”

“‘Course I am. Now let’s go!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading!


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